Shue Shopping
by Dreaming-Of-A-Nightmare
Summary: Whilst looking for cute shoes and forcing his boyfeiend to tag along like any normal gay guy, Kurt stumbles across a familiar face, and Dave reacts... oddly. .:. Kurt/Dave LVB-U realted sequel-ish oneshot. .:. BTW, like the pun I put on the title? XD


**A/N: Part of the La Vie Boheme universe. I mentioned Will Shuester in the eighth chapter, while Kurt was musing over seeing people again. I didn't have him see his old teacher. And thus, I decided to write it as a onehsot. Kinda planned it that way, actually. ;D**

**Once again in Kurt's POV, but not all of these oneshot sequels will be from his side of things. I will most definitely write as other characters sometime in the future, although while keeping the LVB universe. C:**

**On a random note, does anybody else think that Mike Posner's song, 'Please Don't Go' is totally post-"Furt" Dave? Like, the lyrics go, "I don't know if you feel the way I do, if you leave I'm gon find you, baby, please don't go, go, go, go…" X3 (sounds stalker-ish like Dave, and… yeah. Lulz.)**

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"Do you really have to do this?" Dave complains as I drag him through downtown Chicago's sophisticated strip of shops. I haul him through doors and down aisles and up streets, popping in and out of stores.

"Yes, I do! I'm running out of shoes, and it's just _wrong._ Shoe shopping is one of my pastimes, and I don't plan on abandoning it now," I remark playfully. I spot a rather large Sears. "Oh! Sometimes they have really nice boots. Let's go!"

My boyfriend groans in protest, but he follows in after me nonetheless. It's June, and I'm sure he's just as eager as I am about shoes to get into an air-conditioned building. Chicago has awful winters that I hate, but it's summers are just as blazing at times as Ohio's had been. I like it, but it seems to be that Dave is uncomfortable with too much heat the way I am with too much cold.

I slip into the revolving doors, instantly becoming giddy when I spot the entire shoe section on the second floor of the store. I let out a squeal and jog up the escalator, Dave lagging behind casually.

I glance back at him after my eyes land on a pair of Sketchers mountain-hiking lace-up shoes, thick with rubber and woodsy in color and screaming of manliness. "Ooh, Dave, look! These shoes are so _you._ You should buy them."

"I don't need any shoes," he grumbles, not looking at them until I pick one up and shove it at him.

"Come on, Dave. You can't be gay and dislike shoes. I know you blow most of the stereotypes, but you can't seriously look at this shoe and tell me you don't like it at least a little when it's so clearly your taste," I grin, and my smile on widens when he takes the rustic sneaker into his hands.

"Well… it _is_ pretty cool. And real sturdy; I could probably climb Mount Everest in these and they wouldn't even get scuffed." He examines the shoe, caving in. A smile touches his lips. He sighs. "Okay, I'll admit it: shoe shopping isn't that bad, not when some badass shoes like these are around. Hey, do you think they have these in my size?"

"There you go," I encourage, and take the shoe from him. "And I bet they do, even though you're a freak with huge feet." I tease.

"…Am not," he sniffs defensively. "They're normal for my height. Your feet should be bigger, since you're just as tall as me. _You're_ the freak with girl feet."

I lightly sock him in the arm. "Meanie," I retort with a pout. "Now I'm not going to help you find your size. You can do it yourself."

"Whatever," he says, laughing at me. He musses my hair (great, not I have to fix it again, since it keeps melting in the sun anyway!) and bends down to look for the shoes he wants.

I wander down another aisle, peering at some of the more stylish tennis shoes, then at some loafers, and then at a section of Converse and Vans and Airwalks. I love some of these; they have such cool designs, variations of shoes from the '50s, '80s, and early 2000s.

I select one brightly colored shoe in general when I bump into someone also reaching for a shoe; only it's a loafer near my colorful sneaker. "Sorry," I say with a short laugh, and turn to face the man. I blink. "…Shue?"

Dave seems to hear me, walking up behind me as I stand up from my crouch. "Yes, Kurt, there are shoes everywhere, now can you just pick one already?"

He stops dead when he noticing me and the man I bumped into staring at one another. It's unmistakably my old teacher, William Shuester. I'd recognize his tangled mass of curly, gelled, wheat-colored locks anywhere, as well as that chiseled chin. I know it's him; it just _has_ to be.

My former choir teacher cocks an eyebrow at me. "Kurt? Kurt Hummel?" he says, a grin reaching his eyes and soon his mouth. "Wow! Hey! Look at you, all grown up! It's amazing to think I'd run into you, especially outside of Lima!"

I frown a little in confusion, but smile at the same time. "Yeah," I say slowly, and he offers his hand to shake, which I gladly take. "Yeah, amazing! But so weird! Why are you in Chicago, or Illinois at all?"

My teacher laughs. "Regionals were up here this year, but after school ended, I wanted to come back. There's so much culture here, like a miniature version of New York. I stopped in here to buy better walking shoes; taking cabs all the time is so expensive and sometimes a waste of time, so I've been walking, but my shoes couldn't take it, and… whoa. Just so strange, seeing you here. How have you been?"

I smile and beside me, Dave looks so out of the loop. I feel bad. But I can't pass this up. I relay, "Well, long story short, I went to college to do a lot of the theatrical arts, I've been in a production of Rent, and in August I'm going to be in an independent film this guy I met is making. Life's been hectic, but so fun. I love being an adult, free to choose what I want to do with my life. I tell you, Mr. Shue, it's much better than high school."

"Oh, I hear you," he says, chuckling. "But since you _are_ an adult now, you don't have to call me by my last name. Just Will is fine," he reminds, leaning forward to give me a nudge on the arm with his hand. He still looks so young, and I realize that really, he isn't that much older than me. Ten years, maybe? Making him in his mid-thirties?

"Alright… Will." I laugh, blushing a little. "I don't think I could get used to that."

Dave glances at me oddly, and then shoots a look at my teacher than can only be described as jealous. He suddenly loops his arm around me, his thumb slipping into my belt loop. "You know, Kurt, the cat is probably getting hungry and lonely without us, so we should wrap up our shopping and go back home," he mutters, and there's something domineering in his tone.

Will's eyes land on Dave, as if noticing him for the first time. "Oh, hello. Are you Kurt's better half?' he says kindly. But he's soon doing a double-take, his eyes squinting. "Wait. You look familiar. Did you attend McKinley, too? You kind of remind me of David Karofsky." He shrugs, chuckling nervously. "But that's preposterous. Karofsky used to bully Kurt, he wouldn't be _dating_ him."

"I _am_ Dave Karofsky," my lover nearly growls, looking offended.

Will looks taken aback. "O-oh… I'm so sorry, I didn't think – I mean, it's actually kind of nice you two made up, I just –"

"It's understandable," Dave remarks, shrugging like it doesn't matter, when it clearly does. He turns his gaze to me, his thumb slipping out of the belt loop and his arm retreating. "I'll be down by the registers, buying these shoes." And he abruptly leaves.

We both watch him go, and then Will whistles lowly. "Awkward," he says. "Does he act like this whenever you talk to someone you knew in high school?"

I sigh, leaning my weight mainly onto one foot while I place a hand on my hip. "Half of the time, yes. But it's mainly whenever I talk to another male, even if the guy is straight and I'm not remotely interested in him anyhow. Dave is just the jealous type, I think." I glance over at my teacher, dropping my hand from my hip. "I apologize for him, since he doesn't mean to be that way."

Shuester chuckles airily. "No, it's okay. I can understand. I used to get like that when I was younger whenever I was with my girlfriend. It only got worse when I actually got married the first time around." He shakes his head, and then gets a curious look on his face. "You two aren't… living together, are you? – It's none of my business, but it would account for a lot."

I smile minutely. "Yeah, we are, as a matter of fact. It's weird, because outside of college, I've never lived with someone outside of my family. But being shacked up isn't so bad. We get on each other's nerves sometimes, but that's normal." I deadpan. "But it also makes him all the more possessive."

My teacher looks a little uncomfortable, but nods. "I can see that. But at least you're happy, Kurt. It's nice to see that after all the bullying and transferring to Dalton, you've earned the life that should've been rightfully yours to begin with: one with happiness and no fear, doing what you love." He grins. "I'm proud of you. It's mind-blowing to know that a former Glee member of mine got into a Broadway play! It's so impressive that I feel a little ashamed of myself for not trying to take the same route in my life." He waves it away. "But it doesn't matter, since I love teaching and Glee Club, even if it hardly pays and some of my kids don't always appreciate music." His face takes on a sad expression. "No one gets harassed for being in Glee any more, but some of them only joined to make it look good on their college applications. It's disheartening not to have a group like yours, Kurt, where everyone genuinely loved singing." He sighs. "But I've said enough. I should let you go."

I smile. "No, it's fine. I like hearing what you have to say, Will. And you mentioned getting married 'the first time.' Before we part, I'd like to know: did you get re-married?"

He looks sincerely content. "Yeah. I'm on the fifth year of my marriage, actually. You remember Emma Pillsbury, and how she got married before Christmas the year you left?"

I nod. "Of course I remember her. She was a sweetie. You two had a fling for a while, didn't you? After your divorce?"

He, too, nods. "That's correct. I'm surprised you remember. But then she got married, and honestly, I was heartbroken. I never stopped loving her, and one day, she realized her mistake after a huge fight with her husband, and filed for a divorce. And then she came running back to me, crying. And I haven't let her go since," he grins, flashing me his left hand, a gold ring circling his finger.

"That's so sweet," I gush, clutching the shoe I somehow kept in my hand up to my chest. Glancing down at it, I laugh and set it down. Looking back at Shuester, I say, "Well, it was so nice to see you again, Mist – I mean, Will."

We shake hands again, briefly. "You too, Kurt. I wish you well, with many more parts in plays and much love and happiness to come. And whatever problems arise, I trust that you'll get through them."

I almost feel like I'm about to cry. But my eyes don't so much as water. "Thank you. That means a lot to me. And I wish nothing but the best for you, too." And we wave goodbye, Will taking a box of shoes with him and me turning to look back at those colorful ones. I suddenly don't want them, though. I think I'm done shopping for the day.

Feeling fuzzy and warm inside from such a pleasant meeting, I hop-step down to the floor level to find Dave waiting by the door, a bag with a box inside it in his hands. He looks a little put out, and I just can't have that.

I immediately bound up to him and give him a peck on the cheek. I tell him exactly what he wants to hear. "Mr. Shue got married again, you know. To Miss Pillsbury. Isn't that adorable?"

"Did he, now?" Dave says, the light returning to his face. "That's cool. They make a great couple."

"And so do we," I respond honestly as I lace my fingers with his free hand. Together, we march out of the store through the non-revolving doors. "He even said so. He said he was glad that I'm happy."

"Really?" Dave inquires, and I can tell that he's back to his usual self again, no longer huffy like his old self. He asks suddenly, "Want to get some ice cream?" while pointing to a small stand on a corner.

"Absolutely," I reply, and then tease, "But I thought it was a necessity for us to get back to poor Figgles?"

Dave laughs. "Oh, Kurt. You should know by now that making excuses is my forte."


End file.
